


Take Out

by ofplanet_earth



Series: The Long Road [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fear, M/M, The Long Road, Thranduil's greatest fear, we all know what that is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 20:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5389655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is adjusting to life with his recent diagnosis when tragedy strikes in the kitchen.</p><p>Prompt fill on Tumblr: "Inexplicable: Someone's greatest fear"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Out

**Author's Note:**

> this sort of jumps the gun with where Inexplicable is going, but I was having a hard time writing this universe for a while, and this helped me get back into the swing of things. so here you go! part four of the Long Road. 
> 
> requested by anonymous. twice.

Thranduil sat in his study, reviewing emails from Tauriel and generally pretending to work. Though he was all but bound to his home while he _adjusted to this new way of life_ , he’d insisted upon getting back to his job at Greenwood. Now however, he wanted little more than to crawl back into the warmth and comfort of his bed and ignore all his responsibilities.

Surely no one would blame him for taking more time to himself. He was the only one pushing himself to work, after all.

With a satisfied sigh, Thranduil pushed away from his desk. The wood scraped harshly against the floor and Thranduil considered the distance between his seat at the desk and his wheelchair. He scowled and glared at the shiny chrome and cushioned seat. He kept it in the house only because Galadriel insisted he use it whenever possible. Bard frowned and fussed whenever he saw Thranduil up and moving without it, but he held nothing but contempt and hatred for the damned chair. Often, Bard or Galadriel would insist on pushing him around the house in it. He felt like an invalid. Like an infant in a pram.

Thranduil could hear Bard in the kitchen— he’d insisted they have a home-made dinner rather than having food delivered. Thranduil couldn’t see what difference it made, but Bard seemed excited to cook and so he’d left him to his own devices, wheeling away in his glorified stroller with some difficulty.

Thranduil smiled to himself when Bard’s voice echoed down the hall as he cursed. Then came the clang of iron on iron. He had the feeling they’d be ordering in that night, regardless.

He reached for his cane, gripping it tight in his left hand and leaning heavily on it as he began to hobble across the study. But then fear struck, sharp and foreign, finding its way between his ribs and lodging itself inside his chest. Bard cursed again, his voice growing more frantic as Thranduil stood still in his shock.

Thranduil began to walk again, shifting his weight away from his numb and heavy leg as quickly and gracefully as he could. Then the smell of smoke came wafting through the open door of his study.

“Bard?” He called. There was no answer. Fear stabbed fiercely at him again, striking him deeper and setting his heart to race. He struggled to hurry with his cane until his eyes landed on the smooth lines of his wheelchair.

Bugger. He sank into the seat, letting his cane clatter to the floor as he urged the chair forward. The smell of smoke grew thicker as Thranduil wheeled down the long hallway, the smell and the burn of it settling on his skin like ash as it fell from the sky. “Bard!” He called again, though his voice was breathy with panic and exertion.

Memories of burning planks and crumbled walls gripped tightly around his throat and his heart, driving him onward even as he feared what he would find. Smoke seeped along the ceiling now, billowing from the direction of the kitchen and creeping along the length of the hall. His breath came harsh in his throat as he pushed on, ignoring the urge to turn around and close the door.

Thranduil’s mind conjured thoughts of the what he might be faced with once he reached the kitchen— Bard could be hurt, could have been knocked unconscious as the fire raged from the stove and began to devour the house. He shuddered to think what could have happened to cause such an accident. What if the curses Thranduil had heard had been Bard’s aborted cries for help? Thranduil had wasted enough time trying to hobble around on his cane— and all for what? To save his pride?

No. No, this could not be allowed to happen again. Finally, Thranduil burst from the mouth of the hall, all manner of horrors flashing before his wide and burning eyes.

There was Bard, stood in front of the stove and waving an oven mitt wildly at a frying pan on the top of the stove. Smoke poured from the pan, soaking Bard in the cloudy haze as he coughed and reached over his head to turn on the exhaust fan.

“Bard! What happened? Are you alright?” Thranduil wheeled closer more slowly, studying his soulmate closely for any sign of injury or distress, but wary of getting too close. Whatever Bard had been making for supper was now on fire. The flames leapt from the stove and licked at the air in front of Bard, close enough that Thranduil worried Bard’s shirt might catch.

“Sorry Love,” Bard rasped. “I walked away for barely ten minutes and I came back to find the bloody thing on fire. Don’t worry— Ah, shit.” The flames had been extinguished, but the fire alarm began to scream, the beeping and wailing spreading to each room to warn that there was danger in the house. Bard was speaking to him, though Thranduil couldn’t hear him over the din. He was frozen in his shock, but he released the wheels of his chair so that he could grip Bard’s hand as he made to pass by.

He pulled him back so Bard stood in front of him, then down so Thranduil could see his face. He was covered in soot and sweating, but apparently unharmed. Thranduil grasped his face and brought him close, whispered confessions of love and fear and gladness that were swallowed up by the sounds of the alarm. Bard smiled gently and leaned forward, kissing his soulmate’s lips even as Thranduil continued to voice his relief.

Bard stood again and walked away, leaving Thranduil to breathe the harsh smoke and feel the heat of the kitchen press in around him. The alarms stopped then, the silence that followed somehow just as intense as the piercing shriek had been. Cool air rushed through the kitchen and blew Thranduil’s hair over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Bard said again, and came to kneel in front of Thranduil’s chair. “Are you alright?” Thranduil blinked in the face of Bard’s concern— he was the one who’d been standing so close to the fire!

“I’m fine,” was all he could think to say. The flames had been put out, but their heat still lingered, tightening the skin of Thranduil’s face and bringing his focus to the twisted scars there. He breathed deeply as the fresh air blew in from outside.

Bard pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s forehead, a smile breaking the stress and panic that had shown in his eyes. “I think we’re going to have to order take out after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come stalk me on [tumblr](http://http://ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
